Don't Tell Hardison!
by serenelystrange
Summary: So I wrote a story for Ctrokj, and it somehow split itself into two stories. This is the orginal one, in which Eliot meets an old friend of Hardison's, and well, it's Eliot... This is fun fluff people, R&R please! Hope you like, Katie!


Eliot stopped in his tracks as he entered the pub, hand instinctively running through his hair. Across the room, Hardison caught his eye as he noticed the hitter, waving him over with an easy grin. Eliot eyed the stranger next to Hardison warily for a moment, always cautious of new people, even seemingly harmless and breathtakingly beautiful women. Making his expression as friendly as possible, Eliot made his way over to the duo, stopping to stand in front them.

"El, man, this is Jo. Jo, this is Eliot," Hardison grinned widely between the two of them. Eliot couldn't fight his manners and stuck out his hand, enveloping the smooth hand Jo offered.

"It's nice to meet you," Jo said, looking directly at Eliot. A weaker man may have swooned. As it was, Eliot forgot to think for a moment.

"Nice to meet you," he parroted, unsure of how he was supposed to treat this woman.

Hardison spoke, as if reading Eliot's thoughts, "Relax, man, Jo's an old friend. We were foster siblings for a while."

Eliot released Jo's hand, realizing he was still idly shaking it, before relaxing. Not completely, but enough to stop acting like an idiot.

"So, you're visiting Hardison?" Eliot asked, purposely leaving the question wide open.

"Actually," Jo responded, "Allie and I just ran into each other. I'm an editor at the Herald."

Hardison's eyes bugged out at the mention of the nickname he thought had been long buried. Eliot couldn't help but pounce. "Is that right?" he drawled, grinning at Jo. "Well, I bet _Allie_ just loved running into you."

Jo turned to Hardison suddenly, realizing what she's inadvertently done, "I'm sorry! I just forgot."

Hardison scowled slightly, "It's ok. Jolene." He grinned as Jo immediately blushed, punching him none too lightly in the shoulder.

"What?" Eliot asked.

Jo dropped her gaze, muttering, "I hate that name. I'm named after a man stealing whore from a Dolly Parton song for heaven's sake!"

Eliot chuckled, stepping closer. "I know the song," he said, catching her gaze. "I think it describes a beautiful girl with auburn hair and emerald green eyes," he paused, taking in Jo's own fiery hair and bright eyes, "It suits you." She stared back, not saying a thing.

"Hey! No hitting on my friends!" Hardison protested, breaking the moment between Eliot and Jo.

Eliot smirked, pulling his gaze away from Jo's to roll his eyes at Hardison, "I wasn't hitting on her, _Allie,_ I was just complimenting a pretty lady. You should try it sometime."

Jo giggled and Hardison sighed. He should've known better than to introduce Eliot to a girl who wasn't trying to kill them.

"I gotta get going," Eliot said as he ignored Hardison's glare. He grinned lazily at Jo, "It was really nice to meet you, sweetheart. I'll see you around."

Jo grinned right back, entirely too predatorily for Hardison's comfort, "Got that right, cowboy."

Eliot raised his eyebrows in amusement, "How do you know I'm a cowboy?"

"What can I say?" Jo leaned forward to whisper, away from Hardison's ears, "You just look like you know how to ride."

Eliot gulped. Oh, this was going to be fun. "See you later," he promised, before making his exit.

Hardison turned to Jo as the pub door clicked shut. "I compliment women all the time," he pouted. "You know I think you're pretty."

"I know, Allie, I know," Jo soothed, patting Hardison's head gently as he slumped it to rest on the bar.

Hardison's words were muffled by the wood of the bar, but Jo heard enough about "smooth talking southern bullies" to have her giggling all over again, petting Hardison's hair all the while.

Of course, the next time Eliot saw Jo, it was during a con. He was playing a lawyer, again, much to his chagrin. The shirt was too stiff, the tie was too tight, and to top it off, the damn metal detectors prevented him from the security of his favorite knives.

He hurried through the busy courthouse, planting the bugs that Hardison had provided. Actual lawyer work wasn't needed, thankfully, but he needed to look the part. Everything was going fine and dandy until he heard that sweet voice call out over the commotion.

"Eliot!" Jo was suddenly at his side, and he wondered for a moment if Parker wasn't the only one who possessed batman like abilities. He then mentally smacked himself for using a batman reference, even in his own head. Clearly he'd been hanging out with Hardison too much.

Stuffing the badge of Phillip Brownlow into his pocket, he smiled tightly at Jo, hoping they didn't draw too much attention. "Jolene," he offered in greeting.

Eliot tried, but failed, not to stare at the girl in front of him. There was just something about her, something magnetic. She was beautiful, yes, but Eliot had known his share of beautiful women. But Jolene was something else entirely. She reached out and placed a hand on his arm, and his skin practically hummed.

"What are you doing here?" Eliot asked, finally realizing that he should be asking. Where did his instincts go when it came to this woman?

Jo moved closer, but kept her hand where it was. So aware of its heat, Eliot swore he'd have her fingerprints burned into her skin if he dared look. "I told you, I'm an editor. Which is one step above page boy. At least, it is in my office. My boss sent me to pick up some documents." She gestured to the elevator she had originally been heading to.

"Oh," Eliot replied, making the mistake of looking directly into her eyes again. It was hypnotic.

Jolene smiled almost shyly, moving both her hands to ghost the curve of Eliot's face, and it was only with great control that he didn't twitch. "I like your hair pulled back," she said, brushing her fingers across his brow, "Shows off your eyes. I didn't realize they were blue before."

Eliot shrugged, resisting the urge to capture those fingers with his teeth. "It was dark."

Jo dropped her hands back to her sides, but moved even closer, until she was barely half a foot from Eliot. "Dark can be good." She looked up at him and Eliot wanted nothing more than to kiss her ridiculously kissable lips. And the thing about Eliot? Sometimes he listens to his baser instincts.

"It can," Eliot agreed, before crashing his lips to Jolene's, pulling her tightly against him. He moaned happily as she deepened the kiss, and nearly growled as she bit down on his lip.

After a long few moments, they realized they were in fact, in a public place, and Eliot faintly noticed the buzzing of the phone in his pocket. Taking a moment to be thankful he hadn't been wearing his comm., Eliot pulled away, hands still gripping Jolene's waist.

"We can't do this," he said, breathing hard.

"Because of Hardison?" Jolene asked, flushed and inching closer again.

"What?" Eliot stammered, "No. Hell no. I just meant we can't do this right here. People might notice."

Jolene stepped even closer, flush against him. "Let them notice," she whispered in that sexy sweet voice of hers, and Eliot was sorely tempted to do as she said.

Regaining some control, he replied, "I would love to, sweetheart, but the things I wanna do to you? We can go to jail for doing that in public. And we can't do any of it if we're in jail, now can we?"

The thought cooled Jolene just a bit, and she pulled slightly away. "I guess not," she conceded, "But after I get those papers to my boss and you… do whatever it is you came here to do, you and me? We're going to my place. And we're not sleeping till the sun comes up."

Eliot swallowed hard. It had been a long time since he had dealt with such a forward woman, and he realized it was something he had missed.

"Meet you at the pub around 6?" he asked, unable to help pulling her to him again for a quick kiss.

Jolene laughed as they parted, "Definitely. See you then, cowboy."

Eliot watched her go, eyes tracing her curves in appreciation. She made it to the elevator just before the doors closed, and the sight of the smooth metal snapped Eliot out of his world, dragging him back to the present. He glanced around, relived to find that nobody had paid them any mind.

Reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone, he glanced down, noticing at last his obviously tented pants.

"Fuck," he muttered as he called Nate back. Six o'clock was too far away.

At 5:59 Jolene found Eliot leaning against the pub wall, waiting. By 6:15, he had her pinned to the wall in her bedroom, his hands gliding smoothly up the legs she had wrapped around his waist. Her dress was long gone, collapsed in a pile somewhere between the front door and where they were. Eliot's coat and top shirt joined the dress in the messy pile.

Jolene moaned as Eliot sucked on her neck hard enough to bruise, but she pulled his head away to tug at his tank top, cursing it for not being already gone.

"Easy, sweetheart, we've got time," Eliot growled softly in her ear, pressing her even tighter against the wall, groaning as she ground herself against him wantonly.

"Easy later," Jolene argued, voice catching as Eliot licked a line across the top of her bra clad breasts. "Need you now, right now, I just…" she trailed off as Eliot spun them and somehow got them to the bed without breaking apart or hurting anyone. She scrambled to lie back, and tugged at his shirt again, grinning when he lifted his arms and she tossed the offending article aside, coming to hover above her, not quite touching.

"Jesus," Jolene muttered, taking in Eliot's tanned expanse of muscles.

Eliot chuckled against the thigh he was nuzzling, and it was enough to send a jolt of electricity through Jolene's entire body.

"Ok, that's it," she declared, pulling Eliot up for a kiss. "Pants off. Now please."

Never one to deny a woman, Eliot's hands moved to his button, "Yes, ma'am."

Sometime late in the afternoon, Jolene finally woke up, stretching out her sore muscles lazily. She turned to look at the still sleeping man beside her, grinning at the memory of the previous night. And early morning. And shower. The sunlight beamed faintly through the curtains, lighting up Eliot's bare back, and Jolene grinned again as she traced the long lines her nails left. She debated getting up and finding breakfast, but Eliot chose that moment to stir, reaching out for her, pulling her to lie back beside him. Jolene gladly complied, burrowing into his heat.

Just as she was sure Eliot had fallen back to sleep, his voiced graveled quietly, "We can't tell them. The team, I mean. Especially not Hardison."

Jolene just clasped the hand that held her waist and agreed, "Your team doesn't have to know."

"Especially Hardison," Eliot murmured into her hair.

"Especially Hardison," she repeated, laughing.

"And Sophie," Eliot added, falling back to sleep rapidly.

Jolene just laughed, "And Sophie. Goodnight."

Whatever witty response Eliot may have had was lost as he fell asleep, Jolene soon following.

"Eliot?" Nate's voiced called out across the living room as he came down his stairs. Eliot had told him he'd be stopping by to pick up some of his knives, and Nate assumed the other man had let himself in, as usual. Nate stopped walking suddenly as he heard a giggle that he prayed did not belong to Eliot coming from outside his door.

He stalked silently to the door, looking out the peephole, eyes going wide at what he saw. He'd found Eliot. He just hadn't expected to find him wrapped around Hardison's pretty redheaded friend. Shaking his head, Nate grabbed the pack of knives from one of the cabinets before going back to the door and pulling it open, surprising the kissing couple.

"Nate!" Eliot said, looking very much like the proverbial kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The thought forced Nate to look down against his better judgment, relived to find there were no hands in any cookie jars at the moment.

The pretty girl turned a bright shade of pink as she turned to greet Nate. She looked down sheepishly, but Nate just smiled at her. He raised his gaze to glare at Eliot in amusement and annoyance.

"My house? Seriously? You have a house, you know." He shook his head again when Eliot just glared back.

Tossing the knives to Eliot, he rolled his eyes and shut the door, laughing when Eliot's call of 'don't tell Hardison!' came through the walls.

He wouldn't tell Hardison, no. But Eliot hadn't said anything about not telling Parker. Nate smiled. It was shaping up to be a decent day after all.

The End


End file.
